Page 132 of Tragic (Lark Cove 3)

Kaine surged to his feet, framing my face with his hands. “I love you. I’ll love you every day for the rest of your life.”

I leaned closer, smiling against his lips and whispered, “Prove it.”

Two and a half years later . . .

“Where did Piper go?”

Piper’s mom shrugged from the leather couch. Her dad did the same from the armchair I’d made last summer. Both of them were too busy cooing over my baby niece playing on the floor to even look up and answer my question.

Earlier today, Piper had been right here too, sitting in her corner of the couch. But even with the baby in her arms, she’d been off this morning. She’d been quiet and distant. I’d figured it was just because she was tired. We’d had company for the past week, and on top of that, the twins had been up and down all last night. Gabe and Robbie had just learned how to crawl out of their cribs, so we’d gotten late-night visitors in our room three times.

But when I’d left the house an hour ago, taking Isaiah with me to the shop, Piper had been smiling in the kitchen. She’d seemed back to her normal self.

Except now I couldn’t find her, and I had a sinking feeling in my gut that something was wrong.

Since her parents were of no help, I left them and continued through the house. I’d already checked the boys’ room and our bedroom without luck. I peeked into the guest room but she wasn’t there. Her brother and his wife were both zonked out on the bed, taking advantage of a nap while Grandma and Grandpa were babysitting their three-month-old daughter.

I crept down the hall, treading lightly toward the laundry room.

“Damn.” She wasn’t anywhere in the house.

I went outside through the garage’s back door and scanned the yard. All I saw were toys scattered across the grass and a stack of lumber next to the far side of the fence.

The yard was a new addition to our home. We’d brought in a skid steer last summer and graded a level spot to put down some sod. Then we’d swapped out the dining room windows for French doors and built a porch, and now we had a place where the boys could play outside.

I was in the middle of building them the mother of all tree houses in a grove of trees in the far corner of the yard. It was going to have stairs and a ladder. The house itself would be big enough for them no matter how old they got. With four walls and a sturdy roof, they’d be able to camp out here when they got older.

I walked through the yard, gathering up squirt guns, footballs and a plastic yellow baseball bat. After dumping them in the outdoor toy box, I walked over to the gate and let myself out to head toward my old cabin.

At the same time we’d cleared an area for the yard, I’d also decided that the footpath between the cabin and our house wasn’t enough. So I’d bulldozed a narrow gravel road between them. Now, if someone came up one side of the mountain to go to one of the houses, you didn’t have to drive all the way back down to get to the other.

Halfway across the road, I smiled as laughter and barking echoed from inside the cabin. The squeals and giggles got louder as I approached.

I bounded up the stairs, grinning at the chainsaw marks on the porch boards. I’d replaced the chair that I’d hacked to pieces, but the marks had stayed. They reminded me of how miserable and lonely my life had been. They reminded me of how lucky I was now.

Without knocking, I opened the door to my former home.

In the middle of the floor, Robbie and Gabe were climbing all over Koda, our dog.

We’d bought him as a puppy not long after the boys were born. He’d started off small, but full grown, he was a beast. He weighed just over a hundred pounds and resembled a wolf, though the boys treated him more like a horse and were constantly riding him around.

Robbie was currently draped over Koda’s back while Gabe was doing his best to wrestle the braided rope toy from Koda’s mouth. The dog looked up at me, acknowledging my presence, then tugged harder on the rope, sending Gabe crashing to the floor in a heap of laughter.

I hadn’t believed that dogs could smile before I’d watched Koda play with the boys. But he was grinning ear to ear, happy to be with his two favorite humans.

Meanwhile, Mom was sitting on the floor with them, her phone out and camera clicking as she took probably the thousandth photo of the day.

“Have you seen my wife?” I asked.

“No.” She smiled. “Sorry. I’ve been busy trying to keep these two alive.”

I chuckled. “It’s a full-time job.”

Except for the deep-brown eyes that matched Piper’s, the boys were my spitting image. With my dark hair and their own mischievous smiles, Robbie and Gabe found trouble faster than Koda could chase a squirrel up a tree.

At two years old, safety wasn’t a concept they’d grasped yet. If there was a table to climb and jump off of, they found it. If there was a drawer or cabinet in the house with sharp objects, they’d open it. If there was a staircase or hill they could throw themselves down, away they went.

They sought out danger, all while roughhousing with each other. One or both always had a bruise or black eye. Knees were always skinned and elbows scraped. They pushed and wrestled constantly.